


Drawn to the Rhythm

by karrenia_rune



Category: Mordant's Need - Stephen R. Donaldson
Genre: Character Study, Childhood, Family, Gen, POV Male Character, Yuletide New Year's Resolutions Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:11:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at the character of Geraden from his childhood as the youngest son of the Domme to his coming of age and becoming accepted as an Apt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drawn to the Rhythm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yalu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yalu/gifts).



Disclaimer: the two book series, The Mirror of Her Dreams and a Man Rides Through are the original creation of Stephen R. Donaldson. They do not belong to me.  
Written for Yalu's request from Yuletide 2012 Challenge. The title was inspired by the Dido song by the same name.

"Drawn to the Rhythm"

 

From a very young age, whenever anyone would inquire as to what he wished to be when he grew up, the response would invariably be the same, a Master Imager. 

However, dreaming of it and becoming it were two seemingly inimical things. Most of the time the adults, both family, neighbors and the travelers that stopped by his their province or came to called at the family manse, meant the questions kindly, or their attention would be momentarily caught by the gangly boy with his brown eyes and the look in his eyes that read that he would accomplish great things one day.

Sometimes the questions were not meant kindly. At other times when it became apparent to both his parents that a half-formed dream was much more than anyone realized, they would wonder what else could be done with a boy too stubborn and too smart for his own good.

The talk of what kind of a future Geraden might one day make for himself kept his parents up at night, and while neither much worried over the opinions of others, they were both painfully aware that he was not popular among his peers, and the other adults thought him too drifty and impractical, and most, but not all were careful not to utter such remarks to their faces; it still out there.  
Some, like the tanner’s wife, had made the snide remark to his mother that her son was a trifle backward and would never amount to much.  
Geraden’s mother was offended, but restrained herself from making a cutting remark in kind, but still she worried. ‘What if?” she thought. “What if there is something wrong with my son?’

Geraden was not a dense boy by any means. In fact, the opposite might very well be true, that Geraden was one those boys who was simply too smart for his own good. His mother and father discussed this between themselves, but could not find a way to resolve the situation.

The other boys in the village taunted him, went out of their way to snub and exclude him from their games, and fishing excursions. They had called him a book-worm, and fool, a dreamer, and worse things. 

Geraden had taken both the verbal taunting and the physical beatings with his head up and his body hunched into the pain as if while his body felt the impact of their fists and the booted feet into his flank, his mind were a million miles away. 

At one time, when this method of separating mind and body failed to prevent him from feeling the acute pain of the beatings, his father came and beat the boys off with his cane. His brothers knew what was going on, but the one who Geraden had always felt closest too, growing up in the sprawling complex that was Houseldon was away, learning how to be a soldier, and while he was proud of that fact, it still rankled that he could never fully express how he felt or how much becoming an Imager meant to him.

As he grew out of childhood, with the infrequent beatings a thing of the past, Geraden turned his hand to other things besides learning the complicated and mysterious lore and techniques used by Imagers. 

So much of it was wrapped up in mystery and legend, and perhaps all of his fumbling around had been for naught, for as it became more and more apparent, his awkwardness, and clumsiness of his childhood had become more rather than less pronounced as he moved into adolescence. 

He had learned to compensate for it; at the age of fourteen he had a sudden growth spurt. His mother, seated at her weaving loom, with him helping out and rolling skeins of yarn, or whatever other tasks that she might require of him, would stop and smile fondly, or tousle his mop of dark brown hair, and mutter about how he just had one of those faces that he’d have to grow into one day. 

Or sometimes she would say how she just knew that he had had always had the look of someone who would accomplish great things one day. The fact of the matter, that all of the older sons of the Domme were expected to accomplish great things, and for the most part, they had, while Geraden remained a muddler and meanderer, and still had not yet made a name for himself.

Often well-meaning remarks would make him feel loved and gratified, at other times, when he felt frustrated at the lack of success in turning his dream into a reality and he would be left feeling that these were meant not as means of encouragement, but as well-meaning, feeling-sparing platitudes. 

As a result, he would get angry, or despondent, and throw whatever came to hand to the floor and stalk out of the room, and then go sulk in his room.

The day he came of age, the entire household had decorated the house in the family colors, giving the grand old manse a very thorough cleaning from the ground floor to the rafters and his brothers all home for the occasion; they had capped off a delicious meal with one of the best raspberry and chocolate cakes that he had ever tasted. 

His effusive praise that he had given to his mother had made her blush as scarlet as the berries in the pastry, but she had hugged and told him that they were all very proud of him and wished him well in his new life. His father, known in several provinces as a gruff, no-nonsense military-minded mind, had even nearly enveloped his youngest in a rib-cracking bear-hug. Artagel just grinned from ear to ear, and his hug was as effusive as their father’s. Even Nyle had given him a multi-colored scarf saying that it was cold where he was going and that his brother would need it to ward off the chill.

The following morning a letter came by courier that he had not only come to the attention of the Masters, but that he had been accepted as an Apt, which was a kind of apprentice. It was truly the happiest day of his life.

“Finally! Geraden exclaimed, jumping up and down in excitement, so much so that he tripped over his own feet and bumped his shin into his mother’s rocking chair. 

The momentary pain did not in the least take away from the exuberance of the moment, and he plunked down on the couch and held the acceptance letter in his hands, close to his chest. He began to rock back and forth, with his long legs drawn up to his chest and his eyes closed, breathing in deep breaths of air, humming a half-remembered tune as he savored the idea that he was on his way to becoming an Imager.

At that moment, with all the determination and resolve that had seen him through so much, and no doubt would continue to serve him well, he made a promise to himself that he would not let them down, and that their faith in him would not be misplaced.


End file.
